


What's an Oral Fixation?

by stileskolpath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awesome Lydia, Derek is a Failwolf, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oblivious Stiles, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Pining Derek, Pining Derek Hale, Porn With Plot, Sassy Lydia, Scents & Smells, Stiles Has An Oral Fixation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 08:18:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stileskolpath/pseuds/stileskolpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Derek was pretty sure Stiles was actively trying to kill him. Had to be. No one could be this distractingly perfect and not have some kind of evil streak."</p>
<p>a.k.a. the one where Derek can't stop staring at Stiles' mouth. Or his neck. Or really anything. He has a problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's an Oral Fixation?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhoNatural](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoNatural/gifts).



> For Whonatural, whose peer pressure has kept me up for the last 48 hours to finish this. Because apparently there isn’t enough fic in this fandom with Stiles having an oral fixation, and it being Derek’s problem. Because he seems to have a Stiles fixation.
> 
> Shut up, it’s totally a thing.

Stiles’ mouth was goddamn illegal. Porographic even. Just goddamn- _Fuck._

Derek was so _so_ screwed.

Because he found himself constantly distracted by it. Stiles was forever chewing on something, his lips mouthing lightly at the strings on his sweater, the eraser of a pencil, the cuff of his shirt pulled down over his hand, or, more often than not, a knuckle or a wayward finger.

The worst part was that he didn’t even realize it. Or maybe he did and didn’t care. Derek couldn’t decide which was worse. Either way, it wasn’t helpful. Not to mention totally unfair. Because of course the stupid, jailbait son of the sheriff had some kind of oddly erotic oral fixation. Or maybe Derek did, seeing as how everything that touched Stiles’ mouth made him _want_ so damn hard. To the point where he’d start to get hard every time he saw a chewed pencil, or the frayed strings of a random hoodie he found at the store. Even if Stiles wasn’t in it. Or even there. It was a problem.

Derek tried to avoid looking at Stiles entirely. Really, he did. But whenever he’d focus on something else, like whatever Scott was saying at the moment, or some random point on the wall behind the rest of the pack’s heads. And these were the times that Stiles would seem to go out of his way to force Derek’s eyes back on him, by saying his name, or drawing his attention to something on the table in front of them with a long, perfect finger, or making some kind of snide remark at Derek’s expense that he’d snap back just in time to catch.

And then shit, suddenly he was looking at Stiles again, his eyes drawn to the quiet, obscene movement of his lips as they framed a laugh, or one of his stupid, self-satisfied, totally _not_ insanely adorable smirks. Derek’s ears would start to heat up as his blood began to rushed away from his brain.

Then, because _why not_ , Stiles would part his beautiful lips slightly, letting them go slack as he got distracted by some random thought or idea. And Derek usually had to dig his claws into his palm to try and suppress a whimper, because equal parts _holy shit_ and _unghhh_.

“Derek.” Scott was trying to get his attention. He snapped back to reality.

They were in the middle of a pack meeting. It was a practice of Derek’s that Scott kept going with his transition into his newfound alpha-dom, usually a fairly mundane gathering asking the rest of his makeshift amalgamation of humans, werewolves, and strangely-supernatural Lydia if they’d noticed anything odd around town lately, or taken a trip out to the nemeton or the preserve to check on things. But this time was different. Scott had been going on and on about how he and Isaac had tracked a wayward omega through the woods into town, and was tracing the path of the scent with his finger across the map laid out on the table in front of them.

Allison and Lydia were leaned in with crossed arms and stern expressions, listening to what Scott was saying about how the scent had stopped at the school. Derek didn’t really hear any of it, though.

Because next to him, Stiles was perpetuating his own oral fixation, and Derek’s erection, by eating something that’d once been covered in frosting, and licking it off of his _goddamn fingers_. Derek tried not to look as he slid Stiles slid a digit between his lips to collect all the frosting off of it. He failed miserably.

Especially as Stiles hollowed his cheeks around it, making an obscene little slurp-and-pop as he finally pulled it free and started on the next one. Derek had to stifle a whimper. He slammed his eyes shut to keep from imagining the sound that Stiles’ mouth would make if wrapped around _other_ things.

LIke his cock.

"Derek!" He shook himself back to reality and opened his eyes. It was Scott again.

"Wh- what?" He stammered, face flushing with heat. He definitely did not notice the way Stiles cocked a quick little look in his direction as he finished off the frosting from his middle finger.

“Are you even paying attention?”

“Wha-” _No, definitely not_. “Yes. Yeah. Sorry. I just got… distracted. Thinking about something.” _Yeah, getting aggressive head from your best friend_ , he thought. He flicked a look over to Stiles for a second, and thought he saw the quick flash of a self-satisfied, smug little grin.

The little shit totally knew what he was doing. “You were talking about that rogue omega, and how it’s in town now?” Derek asked, trying to change the subject of his thoughts away from anything finger- or frosting-related.

Scott clenched his jaw in frustration. “Yeah, like five minutes ago.” Stiles let out a small chuckle, and Scott punched him in the shoulder.

“Ow, shit, what was that for?” Stiles hissed, probably because Scott put a little more strength into it than he should have.

“You _know_ what it’s for. Now stop it.” The hint of alpha in his voice pretty much guaranteed that he was done with his best friend’s shit.

Stiles went beet-red for a split second, color flushing all the way up to the points of his ears before he tried to shrug it off with one of his trademark eye-rolls.

“Fine,” he bit back, as something unspoken crossed between him and Scott. Derek wondered what it was. But judging by the way Stiles’ scent shifted to sudden, quiet fear, he guessed it wasn’t good.

It got worse when Lydia cleared her throat. “Scott, you were saying?” She leveled a threatening look at Stiles, who sunk a deeper shade of red under her gaze.

Scott turned his attention back to the map, and picked up where he left off, repeating something about the omega’s scent disappearing into the high school. Derek was back to not paying attention again, because Stiles was busy wiping the residue of his earlier frosting escapade from the corners of his mouth.

Derek was so screwed. He couldn’t focus on anything during the rest of the meeting. Afterward, Lydia lingered.

“I swear to god, if you don’t do something about Stiles, I’m going to literally kill you both.” Derek had to think for a second before he remembered. His eyes went wide.

_Oh._

_Fuck._

“What am I supposed to do about him?” Derek asked. _Kiss_ him _, touch_ him _, fuck_ him, were probably not acceptable answers.

“You know he likes you, right?” She asked, ignoring the question and slipping an arm through the strap of her expensive-looking purse. “Or was that not clear?” Derek was too busy willing the floor to open up beneath him to answer. Of course she knew. She knew _everything_. Lydia scoffed. “You’re just as much of a stubborn idiot as he is.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Derek growled. Lydia was unfazed. She even had the nerve to laugh, haughty chuckle slipping through her lips. “What’s so funny?”

“He said the exact same thing when I told him to grow a pair and tell you how he feels instead of resorting this teasing, first-grade, pulling-your-pigtails crap.”  
“But I don’t have pigtails,” Derek’s logic was unassailable. That didn’t stop Lydia from from rolling her eyes into the next century.

“It’s a metaphor, dumbass,” she spat. “Either you get off your stupid, werewolf ass and tell the ridiculous fool that you do in fact, like him too, or I’ll find a way to turn you into a very large, rather useless, fur coat.” Her adjectival command was stunning.

Derek growled. Lydia just cocked one immaculately groomed eyebrow at him. “If you think I’m kidding, just try me.” She turned to leave, high heels clicking across the concrete as she strode toward the door.

“So wait, he knows I like him too?” Derek asked a hair above normal, part of him hoping Lydia didn’t hear. She stopped just before her locks of red hair disappeared through the door. She flicked a quick, knowing smile at him, and Derek’s heart sank to his knees.

“What do you think?” She asked, “That his mouth does that for just anyone?”

Derek closed his eyes and suppressed a shudder at the mention of Stiles’ mouth. Lydia gave him a wink, before she finally departed, leaving Derek to think about his apparently very poor life choices and shoddy intellectual prowess.

\--

It was all over when Stiles arrived a few minutes before the pack’s weekly meeting, sucking some kind of ridiculous lollipop, and Derek couldn’t take it anymore. There were no words, no warning, before he slammed the human up against the wall and crashed their lips together with heady, desperate ferocity that he’d restrained for so long. Stiles had froze at first, until his brain caught up on what was happening. Derek could almost feel the sarcastic response building in his mind until he let his tongue lick inside the human’s lips. Stiles let out a gasp, and any response he might’ve had dissipated as quickly as they’d started to form.

By then his hands carded into Derek’s hair and he was arching into him, moaning greedily as he worried at the werewolf’s bottom lip. It wasn’t long until he’d pushed Derek back, tangling their legs as they stumbled backward, finally toppling onto the bed as it made contact with the back of Derek’s knees. No sooner had they hit the sheets than Stiles began tearing at Derek’s jeans, trying to get at the sizeable bulge forming beneath them. In the second before his lips made contact, Derek blacked out.

He came to when Stiles pulled his mouth free of his cock and ran a tongue up it, from base to tip, lapping up the small bead of pre-come that was starting to collect there. Derek moaned, throwing his head back into the mattress as Stiles’ perfect lips sucked his life out through his cock.

“This is all Lydia’s fault,” he hissed softly.

“Whatever,” Stiles answered, gulping down the saliva that just began to fill his mouth. “I’m gonna send her a fucking thank-you card, then.”  
“You and me both,” Derek agreed, before Stiles slipped his mouth back down over the crown of his cock and the air around him began to boil. “Ever since she- I couldn’t- I never expected- Holy _fucking_ shit that feels good.” The rhythmic bob of Stiles’ mouth up and down over his cock was hindering Derek’s ability to form coherent thought that wasn’t exclusively Stiles-related.

His senses were being taken over, and all he could hear, see, smell, touch, and hell, even _taste_

was Stiles. His scent, all thick and heady and full of want was filtered into each breath Derek inhaled, filling his lungs. The blotchy, ruddy red flush that had creeped across Stiles’ face and down his neck made Derek want to bite, to mark, to lick the skin to make it angrier. He could almost taste it too, all sweet and salty and glistening with sweat. And _fuck_ the feeling. The sensation of Stiles’ warm lips slipping down over the head of his cock, almost to the base and back up in quick, fluid motions, each one smoother, hotter, more perfect than the last. Derek loved the way he could feel Stiles’ tongue brush against the bundle of nerves at the tip of its head, or the way his lips made that obscene little slurping noise as they pulled back, eyes admiring the throbbing flesh hungrily before meeting Derek’s own and sinking back down onto it.

Stiles was leaned over Derek’s hips, kneeling between them on the floor, hand wrapped possessively around the base of his cock as his mouth slurped at it filthily. They’d just started, but Derek was already having trouble holding his orgasm at bay. He was breathing out in short, ragged puffs, heart racing as he bucked up involuntarily into Stiles’ throat, drawing a quick, high sound from it that made him want to do it again, but _harder_. Derek had to dig his hands into the sheets of the bed to restrain himself.

“Sti- Stiles,” he breathed, teetering on the brink of losing total control, “you gotta- I’m gonna come if you keep that up…” He didn’t mind how wrecked his voice sounded. All he could think about was Stiles’ lips, his perfect, swollen, red-bitten lips, the ones that were threatening to tear him apart. And all he wanted was _more_.

“That _is_ the point, you know,” Stiles replied, drawing his head back and sucking saliva back through his teeth as he grinned. Derek was gone. So gone. He was never coming back. All he could think about was Stiles, his lips on him, pressed into his skin, wrapped around his cock, or locked one-over-the-other with his own.

“We don’t have time,” Derek whined. “The rest of the pack is going to be here soon.” Stiles let his mouth sink into the sensitive skin at the base of Derek’s cock, and he flinched into it, before the warmth of his lips began to thread into his veins.

“I think we can make something work,” Stiles grinned evilly, before he parted his lips in a way that should be fucking _illegal_ , and sank Derek’s cock back into his throat.

His worrying about their lack of time proved to be fruitless. Because it was literally thirty seconds before Derek dug his nails into the back of Stiles’ shoulders, sank his teeth into his bottom lip, and came messily against the back of Stiles’ throat as his orgasm rocked violently across his nerves. Even as they began to misfire across their synapses, radiating waves electricity throughout his body, and everything begged Stiles to stop, he didn’t for another full minute. When he finally jerked his head back, Derek was surprised to find that he wasn’t completely liquefied. He couldn’t help but drink in the swollen, raw red of Stiles’ lips, and the muted, glazed-over look in his eyes. He was breathing hard, each shallow inhale followed by a ruined, wrecked exhale as his chest heaved.

Stiles wiped a hand across his lips, and Derek wrapped his fingers around the base of his jaw, and pulled him up on top of him into a gentle, soft kiss. He let it unfold, savoring their mingled tastes on his tongue. Their mingled scents in his nose. All of it.

“You know Scott and Isaac are gonna bitch about the smell, right?” Stiles asked, as Derek rubbed a thumb across his still-flushed cheek fondly. The whole apartment smelled like his and Stiles muddled scents, and the musky, pungent odor of their (almost) fucking.

“Yeah,” Derek answered, tone beyond caring. Stiles chuckled.

“And by the way, I’m gonna need some of your mouth’s _attention_ after the meeting’s over,” he intoned, with the expectant raise of an eyebrow.

“You really _do_ have an oral fixation.”

“A what?”

“Nothing,” Derek answered quickly. “Help me find my pants.” He just finished buckling his belt as he heard a knock at the door. Stiles straightened his shirt and wiped his mouth again. Derek did not do a double-take to watch it happen. He slid back the door, and was greeted by sudden, disgusted looks from Isaac and Scott almost instantly.

“What’s that smell?” Scott asked through a crinkled nose, before suddenly realizing. He glared at Stiles.

“Ew, c’mon man, seriously?”

“What?” Stiles shrugged. “I have needs. And now you won’t have to bitch at me during the meeting for messing with him.” Somehow Derek knew that wasn’t true.

Scott shook his head. “I better not.” Allison and Isaac were already making their way to the table to set up the maps.

Lydia was last, sporting a knowing smile tinged with just a hint of condescension.

“About time,” was all she said, patting Derek on the face as she strode past him. “My money was on you, by the way.”

“Hey!” Stiles protested, as Derek rolled his eyes.

_This meeting went better than the last_ , Derek thought. He didn’t notice Stiles’ lips once. Not even when he started mouthing at the cuff of his shirt absentmindedly, as Scott started in on the omega again. Apparently he and Isaac had found him, or something. Derek wasn’t really listening. He was too busy being distracted. _Again_.

Because the way Stiles’ neck tilted, cords of muscle in sharp relief against the skin as he considered something Scott was gesturing at, was borderline pornographic.

_Fuck._ Derek was pretty sure Stiles was actively trying to kill him. Had to be. No one could be this distractingly perfect.

And of course the human picked that moment to tilt his head back to scratch an itch at the hollow of his throat, before pressing his fingertips into the flesh just behind his vein. He idly rubbed small circles into the skin, and Derek can’t help but stare. His mind kept drifting back to the way it was all ruddy, red-bitten and flushed when Stiles was sucking him off before, and he had to bite his bottom lip to suppress a moan. He felt himself start to harden in his jeans.

Then Stiles caught him looking. That just made matters worse. Because not only was Derek getting all hot and bothered by the jailbait teenager _again_ , he knew that Stiles was totally aware of his effects now, and was trying to unhinge the werewolf.

Derek tried to reign it in. But it was no use, especially when Stiles flipped his collar low, to bare the crook of skin just behind his collarbone, that Derek just wanted to bite it. He had to shake his head to suppress the urge. _Although..._ , he thought, imagining Stiles’ neck looking perfect with some blotchy, purple marks sucked into the skin by his own mouth. Derek wasn’t able to stymie the whimper his wolf let slip from his chest. Stiles chuckled at the sound.

Scott growled. “Guys, seriously, cut it out,” he complained. Derek hung his head, blood in his ears beginning to boil with embarrassment.

Then Derek caught Stiles rolling his neck, apparently unperturbed by his best friend’s warning, and nearly fucking _meeped_.

_Stop it_ , he growled at himself, _focus on something,_ anything _else._

_Oooh, like Stiles’ lips…_

_Fuck. Not again._ Derek was so screwed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to stop by [my tumblr](http://watchthewolvesrun.tumblr.com/) for more Sterek-y goodness. Be sure to leave comments and kudos before you go!
> 
> Thanks again!
> 
> -SK


End file.
